How to rise above anything. Even the worst

This is my dear friend Ingrid Poulson, doing TEDx last month. If you live in Australia, you might know Ingrid because of her story. It is a doozy. But Ingrid is so much more than just the well-known part of her story. I knew her before her story became a Story, when she was a shy and funny and deeply average teenager like the rest of us. We sang a cappella big-band tunes together with our friends. We told silly stories and wrote them down. Ingrid had a big brother with beautiful eyes and a big sister who was soooo glamorous. Ingrid had a chicken that lived on the shed roof and crowed like a rooster.

Today I am still honoured to have Ingrid as my friend, and to know the kind and funny and brave and loving woman that she is, well beyond any story.

She said on her website that when she was invited to talk at TEDx, "I wanted to tell the story just one more time and that was it. Have it filmed and out there for people to check out and then react in their own time and space."

The next 16 minutes are Ingrid's gift to you. They are her lessons, learned in the hardest possible of ways, on how to RISE (that's an acronym, you'll learn) through and above anything that life throws at you.

I remember reading in Ingrid's amazing book Rise, that she draws a big distinction between strength and resilience. When Ingrid lost everything, people would tell her "You're so strong. You're the strongest person I know." And for Ingrid that became a pressure: she felt she couldn't call on those people on the days she was truly at her lowest, because she would lose the title of Strong, and society places such value on strength. Instead, Ingrid teaches resilience. Resilience lets you hit the lowest of the lows, and that's OK, but you do survive and, in time, you overcome. I highly recommend Rise: it is positive and potentially life-changing.

In the meantime, watch this. Go on! You'll thank me (and Ingrid).

ps. If you'd like to learn from Ingrid in person, get along to this workshop at The Happiness Institute on 15 June

Autumn

At some point during the past six-to-eight weeks, while I was busy not noticing things, autumn arrived. Last thing I remember, it was the end of summer and the heat was still oppressive but a handful of leaves had started to change colour and they felt like a promise, a promise of cooler, happier days. Then a pea-soup fog of sleep deprivation and sickness settled over my head and I stopped seeing anything beyond that which was needed for survival each day. At one point I didn't leave the house for an entire week. Meanwhile the season I love the most rolled in and on and through Melbourne, without me.

Today the fog lifted. Madeleine has been generous and given me three relatively good nights' sleep in a row, and all I have left of my virus is an irritating occasional cough. The difference is incredible. It's like the world is back and bigger and more beautiful than ever. Could it seriously have been here all along?

It turns out I missed watching most of the leaves turn orange and red; they skipped all the way to brown while I was in the fog. But they are still lovely. So, less than two weeks before the beginning of winter, I have at last managed to celebrate autumn.

After a two hour walk through the falling and fallen leaves, Madeleine and I stopped in at the Little Creatures Dining Hall on Brunswick Street for a big lunch and a rousing game of peek-a-boo with Madeleine's toy keys. I've been subsisting on Vegemite toast for the past month, and I can tell you I ate ALL of this meal (apart from the bits Madeleine stole, mostly fries).

How beautiful is the autumnal woodland they created inside the dining hall for Good Beer Week? Lunch felt like a cosy forest picnic. With heaters.

Favourite things - ephemera

Just five things from around the Internet that have been making me think covetous thoughts this week. Have a fantastic weekend! 1. The beautiful bowls

Painted wooden bowls, plates and other homewares from Nicole Porter Design

2. The chrysanthemum clutch

This handmade chrysanthemum silk lined aqua floral clutch from BagNoir in Ireland

3. The gorgeous girls' clothes

When Madeleine is big enough I can't wait to dress her in outfits from Latvian clothing line Aristocrat Kids

4. The 'dorable doormat

See what I did there, with the alliteration? Also, why has nobody invented a 3D doormat before now?

5. The nifty notebook

Are you a person who carries a notebook everywhere for those times when inspiration strikes? Me too. This Dodo iPhone case is also a notebook. 'Nough said!

Welcome home

Have you been following astronaut Commander Chris Hadfield's poetic tweets from space? Somehow, he made "out there" feel so much closer to "in here." As though we were all part of the same universe, and all connected. Which of course we are. While I have been going about my closed little life: working, walking, writing, loving my baby; Commander Hadfield has been floating above and feeling connected to me and my seven billion Earth neighbours in a way that I can barely understand.

These are some of the photographs he has been sending home from his time on the International Space Station, and his accompanying thoughts.

"Tonight's Finale: The Moon rising over a bed of cloud. A constant reminder to us all of what can be achieved."

"Clouds swoop in on Crimea, a white bird on the Black Sea."

"Hamburg, famed port city in northern Germany, on what must have been a lovely day to take a stroll down the Elbe."

"Canada rocks." (Did I mention Commander Hadfield is Canadian?)

"Spaceships glowing blue in the dawn as we leave Florida headed across the Atlantic."

Commander Hadfield is due home today. He tweeted a few hours ago "Hard to express all of my emotions, but mostly gratitude. I came here on behalf of so many people - thank you." It's an extraordinary world we live in, wouldn't you agree?

ps. If you've somehow managed to miss the media storm, here is the fantastic remake of David Bowie's Space Oddity that Commander Hadfield recorded from on board the International Space Station. I would find it super-poignant, except that moustache gives me the giggles and that brings me down to earth. So to speak.

Reading lately

"To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart." ~ Phyllis Theroux Last night Mr B came home from work with a pile of "googly eyes" board-books for Madeleine, and this one for me. Did you know that the British Air Force kept more than 20,000 pigeons to carry intelligence during the first World War? Or that Hammurabi the King of Babylon invented one of the earliest postal systems (almost 4000 years ago)? Or how to make scented ink? I do, now. I am going to sparkle at dinner parties.

What are you reading right now?

Melbourne dispatch - CERES Environment Park

On the banks of the Merri Creek in East Brunswick, Melbourne, is the prettiest, sweetest-smelling city dump you will ever find. What was once four-and-a-half hectares of landfill has been converted, metre by metre, into an oasis of green, sustainable paradise. It's called the Centre for Education and Research in Environmental Strategies, or CERES, which is a handy acronym since Ceres was the ancient Roman goddess of agriculture. (How long do you think it took them to make that one work?)

I took my ever-so-green parents to CERES while they were visiting last week, for a stop-off at the organic market, a wander through the nursery and shop, a peek at the farm, and a leisurely lunch at the outdoor cafe while listening to live music.

Behind us, children slid joyfully down a dirt slope on their backsides, landing almost under our cafe table with squeals of laughter (and a few anxious "Mummy I'm stuck!" pleas from the smaller children, half-way down the hill).

Other littles watched the free-range chickens with delight, and bus-loads of school-children could be seen at one workshop or another as we explored the grounds after lunch. Glancing around the market and cafe, I don't think I'd ever seen so many string bags and braids in one place (and I used to live in Glebe, people).

Later Mum and I (and a sleeping Madeleine) strolled over to an old red train-carriage that had since been converted into an intriguing gallery space.

There was an exhibition inside the train carriage called Forest by artist Stefanie Robinson. The name is kind of (and I imagine intentionally) ironic, since the exhibition comprised mostly paper. Long, narrow strips of paper falling from the ceiling almost to the floor, through which you had to wander to see. From a vine twisting along the ceiling, woven nests of blue and brown also hung among the paper forest, and such was the installation and the space that you never could step back and get a view of the whole thing. Like a real forest, you could only really see it and appreciate it from inside.

Reading about this exhibition later, I learned that Stefanie had made the hanging nests from objects found in the landscape after natural disasters, such as Japan after the Tsunami, and country Victoria after the bushfires.

I went in alone and it was beautifully quiet, just the rustling of the paper and the sound of my footsteps, which I instinctively tried to soften. I don't know why.

Also like a real forest, this exhibition was intended to evolve and grow over time. I wish it had lasted longer because I'd have loved you to be able to see it, too. I contacted Stefanie later that afternoon to ask if I could include some photos I took from inside her dreamlike forest on my blog, and she kindly said yes.

Favourite things - five rooms

Yes, it's this theme again. I JUST CAN'T HELP MYSELF. The other day I walked past the house we own but don't live in FIVE TIMES while walking Madeleine, just dreaming about what I'd do if I lived in there. If the tenant was home, she was probably on the verge of calling the police. This living-in-limbo thing is driving me c r a z y. I am still dreaming about moving into my own home. About a place where I can Madeleine-proof the shelves and stairs and television without the use of gaffa tape (yes, gaffa tape! I'm desperate in this here rental!). A place where I can hang paintings on the wall, create as much storage as we need, and make it beautiful.

These are five lovely rooms I'd like in my house.

1. The bookish bedroom

If I slept in this room, I would have the most amazing adventures in my dreams! (Via English Muse)

2. The leafy living-room

What an oasis of calm! Just add hot chocolate and a rug made of granny-squares, and I'd never leave. (Via Old Brand New)

3. The white, bright kitchen

This makes me think of freshly-squeezed orange juice, warm croissants and a big bowl of strawberries. (Via I like that blog)

4. The playroom nursery

I love how these parents gave up their master bedroom to the kids, so that they could use it to play as well as sleep. Also, where can I get a low little set of bookshelves like these for Madeleine? (Via Oh Happy Day)

5. The cat's room

This cat tipi? I can't even. (Via Eat Drink Chic)

Recipe for joy

Ingredients: * A crisp, sunshiney autumn day * Devonshire Tea * One 10-month-old baby * About 30 cooing, adoring grown-ups * A ride in an open-sided jeep with orange chairs * The animals of the savannah, roaming free

Toss in a gentle stroll through forests and along river-banks, to taste

Method:

Mix well and serve liberally.

Yields: 18 baby belly-laughs, 10 squeals of delight, six episodes of over-excited bouncing, and five chances to hold hands with your beloved.

For added flavour, when baby is exhausted from all the excitement and starts sucking her fingers and looking rather concerned, strap her into the carrier where she will snuggle like a meerkat and fall asleep on your chest, gently snoring into your neck just like she did when she was tiny. Kiss her forehead.

Yields: pure bliss.

(ps. We were at Werribee Zoo)

Thank you

This is such a simple way to make someone's day. Who else is going to start carrying post-it notes with them everywhere?

I just came to say hello

I think my last post may have been a tad negative. I should add that there have been plenty more things we have been doing, besides working, walking and not sleeping, that have made life rather lovely. Like... * Dancing crazily around the living room: me, Mr B, Madeleine, Emily and Oliver the dog; to Hello by Martin Solveig and Dragonette (because who can NOT dance when this song comes on? And also, do you remember the hilarious tennis video with Bob Sinclar? Oh Martin, I love your pasty white legs, they put mine to shame!)

* Giving Madeleine her first taste of mac 'n cheese, and seeing her declare (in baby language) this dish God's Gift to baby bellies.

* Ripening olives in the tree in our courtyard.

* A visit from my Mum and Dad, at the end of a train holiday they took to the middle of Australia and back. As usual I think we wore them out. We tried to go out one night while Mum and Dad babysat, the first time since Madeleine was born (!), but my little baby woke up and cried so much we had to cut the dinner short. Every time we see Mum and Dad I think my little family adds about 10 years to their lives (not that you look it, Mum!). But it is still wonderful to see them.

* A reunion picnic for Mr B in Carlton Gardens, with all the friends he lived with on campus in his uni days. I have never seen him laugh so loud for so long (and Mr B likes to laugh a LOT). There were some really, really bad photos, complete with incriminating hair and cross-dressing. There were stories that even I hadn't heard before. And there was a 'time capsule' they'd made in the 90s, which had remained sealed and in the bottom of a box in our house up until last weekend. Sadly the hilarious contents, mostly written late at night and after a few too many drinks, are not to be shared on this PG blog!

* We took a trip to the Werribee Open Range Zoo with a bunch of old folks from Mr B's work. This was so much fun, and I do promise to blog about it soon.

* Playing UNO on cold nights, with the heater on and a cup of tea in the other hand.

* Instagramming my little heart out while walking Madeleine through our town.

* Madeleine graduating from the commando crawl to a proper, turbo-speed hands-and-knees technique; Madeleine climbing up on everything and thinking she is ALL THAT every time she stands up. Madeleine identifying her foot, and presenting it proudly at the dinner table every time I ask "Where's your foot?" (as if I didn't know, honestly child). Madeleine initiating peek-a-boo games all by herself. Madeleine learning to throw the tennis ball for Oliver. Madeleine laughing whenever we laugh, even though she doesn't get the joke. Madeleine making "tsk tsk" noises, replicating the sound of licking fingers, whenever she sees me with food. It is baby-language for "I'll have some of that!" Madeleine's face lighting up every time she sees me, even if it's just waking up from a nap. Madeleine, Madeleine, Madeleine...

ps. Photos are recent instagrams from around Melbourne. Who else is SO HAPPY that autumn is here?